Beginning, Middle, and End
by S1lver Wolf
Summary: Sequel to The Book Of The Third Eye. One year after the incident only Knuckles remembers, those involved go about their daily lives. That is, until a dark figure appears, working for its own unknown purposes. History is unravelled as relationships are strained and formed anew as a shadow conspires and old foes arise... Reading both TBOTTE and the Midquel first is recommended.
1. Chapter 1 (Prologue)

Well, here's the sequel. I'm warning you now, the updates may be sporradic, but they _will_ happen. I hope you all enjoy! But first:

**DISCLAIMER:**

I do not own Sonic the Hedgehog or anything not owned by me. The things owned be me, however, are mine.

* * *

**Beginning, Middle, and End:**

**Sequel To The Book Of The Third Eye**

**Prologue**

Verril hated being sick. Not even the ability to miss school could outweigh the burning fever and the disgustingly bittersweet taste of cough syrup. He just sat there, feeling useless, not even able to go down to his father's basement lab to watch his brother work on his newest fantastical scientific project, not that he'd ever be able to make heads or tails of any of that science stuff, anyway.

His father was a brilliant doctor, a fact that, although very useful, could tend to get a little overbearing at times when Verril was ill. It was his father that his brother, Ivo, took after. Ivo had inherited the Robotnik gene for pure genius, passed down for generations.

Verril, however, did not inherit that gene. Sure, he was intelligent enough, but although his IQ was a bit higher than most, it didn't skyrocket like Ivo's. No, Verril had instead followed in his mother's footsteps. Her, a published author, and her family of politicians, had gifted him with a silver tongue, one that seemed to be a useful weapon against teachers and pretend-a-bullies.

That was another thing he hated about being sick: he couldn't talk his way out of it.

"Verril, honey, do you need anything?" He sunk back into his bed sheets at his mother's voice, dreading the eventual taste of medicine. "Yeah," he yelled as loudly as possible through the hoarseness in his voice, "I need something to do! I feel like a ragdoll."

His mother appeared in the door frame, one hand on her hip while the other tucked a strand of fiery red hair behind her ear before pointing at him. "You," she said, squinting her eyes, "should read a book. Most of the books _I've_ read were when I wasn't feeling well."

"You've said that too many times, Mom."

"But what do you do every time I say it?"

"I read a book."

"Exactly."

She walked over and sat next to him on the bed, brushing his dark brown hair away from his forehead with her fingertips. "I don't like it when you're not feeling well." Verril scowled. "Me neither."

There was a sudden knock on the front door. Verril's mother quickly turned her head toward the sound, her hair whipping around her face; where it stayed, miraculously defying gravity. "Mom?" She did not speak. "Mom?" Verril became a little bit frantic, slightly worried that his sickness had sent him off the deep end, but still she did not respond. "Mom?!"

Verril looked around the room in a light frenzy, his breath beginning to come in spasms. Suddenly, even through his own craze, he became aware of an odd stillness. It wasn't just his mother that had frozen, but also the air itself. Quickly scrambling out of bed and to the window, Verril stared at the street outside.

No wind. The trees stood absolutely still, without even the rustling of birds. Stopped mid-street was a truck. There was no sound coming from what should have been a running engine, and though the driver's cigarette still had a brightly burning ember, no smoke was produced that wasn't already hanging lifelessly in the air. Across the way stood a woman in a puffy red jacket , the key in her hand halfway to her front door. The silence was deafening.

"Seven years old, am I correct?"

Verril spun around, the sudden headache and nausea reminding him of his illness.

"Vulnerable and weak. Perfect."

Verril flattened his back against the wall. There, on the other side of his room, was a Mobian hedgehog, as dark as a shadow itself. The boy tried to speak; to scream or shout, but no matter how hard he tried, no sound would come out.

"You cannot speak with a voice frozen in time. Listen well, child, and I may allow you a few words."

For some unexplained reason, the hedgehog's mouth did not move when he, (or it), spoke. He began to step towards Verril soundlessly.

"In short," the shadowy figure said darkly, "I am here for three things." He stopped directly in front of Verril, who was now frightened to the verge of tears.

"First and foremost, I am here to kill," he stated emotionlessly. "Secondly, and as an indirect yet necessary result of the first, I have come to create. I am here playing god, if such irony is even accepted. Lastly, the reason that is, admittedly, the least important, yet infinitely the most satisfying: the simple pleasure of malice."

The intruder remained neutral, without a twitch of any facial expression at all.

"Now, child, I have a simple job for you," he continued, face now no more than a foot from Verril's. "I want you to remember. Keep this in your memories for as long as is possible for such a pathetic creature as yourself. That is all." He slowly reached up and wrapped his shadowy gloved fingers around the petrified boy's throat. "I will now allow you a few words. Be careful what you say, for the fate of your windpipe is in my hands."

The hand around Verril's throat was as cold as ice; or death. His voice was shaky when he finally spoke. "Wh-who are you?" The shadow sighed, a raspy, almost mechanical sound. "I'm afraid that would be counterproductive. As much as I would love for you to know the name of your parent's demise, I cannot answer that."

Tears began to roll freely down Verril's cheeks. "D-don't… Please…" The hand tightened, cutting off his airflow.

"Didn't I warn you to be careful what you say?" the intruder said, his neutral voice now tinged with poison. "This may be the easiest way for me to accomplish my goals, but it is not the only one. For your own sake, don't try to plead. It makes me hunger for your death."

Verril's throat was released, and the sudden rush of air made him cough and dizzily fall to the carpet. When he caught his breath, he heard the dark voice again.

"Be good, child. Carry out your simple assignment, and you live."

Suddenly, the pain in his throat was gone, as if it had never been there. He felt warmer, and realized he was now under blankets; back in his bed. His mother was now gone from where she had been at his side. _Did I fall asleep? Was that all just a dream?_

"Verril, honey, do you need anything?"

His mother's voice from the other room made his heart jump in fear, tempted to open his window and jump out, hitching a ride in the pick-up truck with the smoking driver he knew would go by in just a few moments. For the moment, however, he decided to test it. "Yeah," he yelled, trying to remember exactly what he had said, "I need something to do! I feel like a ragdoll."

Sure enough, his mother appeared in the doorway, once again brushing away her hair and pointing at him. "You should read a book. Most of the books _I've _read were…"

Verril jumped up out of bed, ignoring the head rush and cutting her off mid-sentence. "Mom! Get Dad and Ivo! We need to get out of the house _now_!" She walked towards him confusedly. "What's wrong, Verril?" He ran and grabbed the first pair of shoes he could find. Outside, a truck roared past.

"No," he mumbled as he heard a knock on the door. His mother made to leave, but he leapt forward and grabbed her arm, holding her back while tears poured from his eyes. "Don't answer it!" She kneeled down and hugged him tightly. "Your father's probably already there anyway. Verril, what's wrong?" The front door opened and closed.

Moments later, Verril's father, a tall man with black hair and the customary Robotnik mustache, walked into view asking what was wrong. "Who was it?!" Verril shouted. "Who was at the door?!" His father leaned down and placed a hand on his son's shoulder worriedly. "It was just Ivo, Verril," he said, "he locked himself out. What's wrong?"

Verril's hitched sobs halted for a moment. He clung to his mother for dear life. "I-I guess I h-had a bad dream…" He stood there for a long minute, his mother rubbing his back, calming him down. _It was just a dream. Just a dream…_ He got his breathing back under control. Then he heard the sound.

It was the sound that he later remembered most. He was never sure why, but that crackling hum, like muffled electricity, always haunted him. More than the shadowy grip on his neck. More than the dark, emotionless voice. More than the stench of burning flesh. More than his mother's screams.

"You are a good child. For that, I will answer your question. I am someone you should hope you never see again."

**Amy: Part 1**

In a small apartment in the city of Station Square, a young pink hedgehog in a red dress twirled about happily, whistling a little tune as the tidied up the largely rose-coloured rooms. Now and again she would glance over at the clock, only to find that a mere two minutes had passed since last she checked, before continuing to cleanse what was already spotless. This was a big day for Amy Rose, and she had been anticipating it for about a week now, since the date had been set, partially due to her own poking and prodding. This was the day Sonic would propose to her. She was certain of it.

Amy's evidence, (thoroughly backed up by a lifetime of sappy romance films and several years of being blissfully and delusionally coupled with her favourite hedgehog), couldn't be any clearer. Exactly six days, three hours, and fourteen minutes ago, Sonic the Hedgehog, hero of the planet Mobius, called her up, (using the number for Amy's special blue and pink phone just for him), and said he needed to tell her something. She forced him into a date, he bargained for a week's time, and she agreed, figuring it was the best she was going to get.

Now that her apartment was sparkling and drenched with the scent of artificial lemon, Amy had decided to simply dance around cheerily with the feather duster until one o' clock, leaving her four hours for her own personal appearance. She had this day planned out since the moment her Sonikku called. After all, it was such a rare occurrence that he actually wanted to spend time with her, especially since that incident a year ago.

Sure, she had spent plenty of time _around _him, but not _with_ him. Since that time he had told her about being in love with someone else, (even though he convinced her he was lying), Amy had decided to keep a leash on Sonic, meaning that five days of her week were scheduled with covert missions, with the seventh being a time to organize her data. As of now, she had three shoe boxes overflowing with information, including maps of the hero's running routes, detailed charts showing how much time he spent in different places, and word-for-word accounts of some of his more interesting conversations.

Amy made another cheery lap around her apartment, waving the duster the whole way through, and took another glance at the clock. The minute hand had inched a fraction closer to the next tick mark, but the hour hand stayed stuck firmly on the twelve. _Just five more hours! He's practically here!_ She squealed and gave a little dance of happiness before making another lap, singing and whistling all the way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Rouge: Part 1**

"Yes, grandmother, sir!" She posed in a perfect mockery of a true soldier, hand raised in a salute over her prow, her expression breaking into a smirk for only a moment. The woman across from the desk narrowed her eyes. "Agent Rouge, I am sure I don't need to remind you that being one year your senior does _not _make me an old woman!"

Rouge shrugged and relaxed her impersonation as Commander Topaz ran a hand through her short, sandy blonde hair in frustration. "Besides, you just walked through the door. I haven't even told you to do anything." The bat sat in the chair opposite the desk and crossed her legs casually. "I anticipate. It's what an agent does." Topaz raised her eyebrows. "Well, if you expect any orders, you'll be disappointed. After all, you invited yourself in here. Now," she sat and rested her head on the palm of her hand, "whaddaya want?"

Now in an 'all-business' state of mind, Rouge leaned forward. "I happened to come across a file that detailed the reopening of the archeological site at the echidna ruins." Topaz smirked. "There aren't any jewels, Rouge." The thief's eyes twinkled at the mention of precious stones, but she waved it off regardless. "That's too bad", she said, "but that's not what I was referring to. I wanted to warn you." "Warn me?" Topaz responded. "About what? They're just harmless old ruins."

Rouge smiled inwardly at this because, in all actuality, they really were just harmless old ruins. However, it was not the ancient temples themselves that were dangerous, it was what rested inside a small chamber beneath what used to be the royal armory. What she was worried about was the mysterious book that she herself had stolen from this very office one year ago, narrowly escaping with her life. Rouge glanced at the large window behind Topaz's head, almost expecting to see a large, gaping hole where there was spotless transparent glass.

"True," the thief continued, "most of them are. However, back in my treasure hunting days, I found a certain disappointing chamber. No jewels. No murals. Just dust, darkness, and a fountain of cleverly placed traps." Topaz widened her eyes and grabbed a notebook off the corner of her desk. "Traps, eh? And they weren't protecting anything?" Rouge leaned back in the chair, glad that her story was working. "Nothing but empty ruins, hon."

Topaz began scribbling furiously in the notebook. "Do you know exactly where this is? I need to mark this as a restricted area on the team's maps and keep people out."

"I sure do," the bat stated cockily. "Just give me a map and I'll point in out in seconds."

**Topaz: Part 1**

"Listen, if this is a practical joke, I _swear_ I'll..."

"It's not! Just let me explain."

"It's a stuffed animal."

"Well, that's putting it very bluntly..."

"It's a stuffed animal."

"...but yes, that is partially correct. Let me explain."

Topaz had come down to the laboratory to inform the scientists of the danger in the ruins. That was all she planned to do, and it was all she was going to do before going home with a quart of Cherry Garcia, but it appeared that was going to be postponed until Henry Frost could show her his newest invention. So far, it didn't seem to be very promising.

On the shining metal table in front of both the Commander and head scientist was what appeared to be a child's plaything. It had an odd similarity in appearance to the famous Miles "Tails" Prower, who occasionally helped out GUN, in the way that it was an orange-yellow fox with red and white shoes and two tails. However, something about the differences, (black, soulless eyes and a dull red gem hanging from a wire that sprouted from its forehead), made a shiver run down Topaz's spine.

"It's actually not originally my invention," Henry said as he wiped his glasses on his lab coat. "I found it in the back of one of the storerooms. I looked it up, and although I couldn't find exactly what it had been created to do, I did notice that the software was similar to Eggman's earlier robots. I think it's possible that he was its original creator."

Topaz reached forward and pushed the doll's head away, causing it to stare at the corner instead of at her. It felt rough and hardy, like burlap. "I don't think we should be rebuilding one of Eggman's creations, especially if we don't know what it was built to do." Henry reached into the pocket of his coat and brought out a small mechanical gizmo, placing it on the table in front of them. "What is it?"

"It's the central cognition microprocessor. I retraced to where this machine took its orders from, and the trail ended at one of Eggman's first bases. I took it out, and, with a bit of slight tweaking, I was able to replace it with the microprocessor of a scrapped GUN robot. To put it very crudely," he said, noticing the fact that Topaz seemed lost for a bit of his explanation, "I gave it a brain transplant. It follows GUN orders now."

"So," Topaz began, giving the toy/robot a sideways glance, "if it has a brain, what's stopping it from powering on?" Henry gave an embarrassed chuckle. "I don't know what its power source is. It doesn't work like anything I've ever seen. It's not animal-powered, like most of Eggman's robots from back then, and chaos drives just aren't compatible. There isn't even a slot for a Chaos Emerald. I've looked for everything from a nuclear fission chamber to a USB port. This thing is a complete mystery to me."

It went against everything in Topaz's training to actually _want_ to revive an Eggman robot, but there was something about this strange toy that piqued her interest. Even if it jeopardized her job, she wanted to see Henry restore this thing. "Ok," she said hesitantly, "do it. Let's find out what this plushie can do."

The scientist perked up, happy to have a new project to work on. "Actually," he said after a moment, "I did find one thing. It's actually part of the reason why I approved the reopening of the excavation site in the Mystic Ruins."

"Say, that reminds me of why I came down here at all..." Topaz started before Henry cut her off. "About the restricted area? Agent Rouge already told me." _She went over my head again... _"Anyway," he continued, "I found a few strange runes inscribed on the inside of this gem-like device hanging from its head. They seemed familiar, so I looked them up." Henry shuffled through a few papers nearby before producing a black and white print-out of some sort of mosaic, incomprehensible characters carved into the stone. "I matched a couple of them. If this is an Eggman invention, then what are ancient echidna runes doing carved into it?"


End file.
